


Hands

by TheShorty



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Breathplay, Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Mindfuck, Mild/Moderate BDSM, Ongoing Enthusiastic Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tumblr Prompt, among other things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShorty/pseuds/TheShorty
Summary: "Most men think that since my hands can’t wrap completely around their neck, I can’t hurt them like this."Written in response to the Six Sexy Words prompt given by @devovere: "Sometimes you need a good fuck."





	Hands

“You know, it’s not actually about your windpipe at all.”

Warm fingers pressed lightly under his jaw, rubbing in small circles as her grip tightened against the large vessels there.

“Go ahead, take a breath.”

His chest was full of breath he didn’t remember holding, so he tested her theory by releasing a few puffs of air. As best he could tell, there was nothing stopping his airflow.

She lightened her grip, burning small circles into his skin. His cocked twitched and her eyebrow followed suit.

“Oh no, it’s not about true asphyxiation at all. It’s more…” Her grip stilled and tightened. “About making your mind _think_ you’re suffocating. Take another a breath.”

He took in a tentative breath in. Hearing and feeling no resistance, he exhaled slowly.

“Most men think that since my hands can’t wrap completely around their neck, I can’t hurt them like this. And again.” Before he could obey, her hand found his cock and he gasped. Her fingers curled more firmly around his cock and his throat. He swallowed hard. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as she stroked firmly up and down. Up and down. Up and…

“But they’re wrong.” He heard his whimper as he exhaled. Her warm breath tickled his ear as she whispered. “Take a deep breath, love. I’ve got you.” He closed his eyes tightly. Behind his eyes, his brain felt like it was floating, inflating like a balloon inside his skull. He tried to focus on her words, her fingers now running slowly up and down the length of his shaft, her fingers curled into the soft tissue of his neck.

He heard a deep, rasping breath being inhaled—his deep, rasping breath. Her mouth covered his as her hand released his throat. She groaned, nipping his beautiful lips; he sucked in breath around her as his brain fought a battle between fact and fiction, oxygen and deprivation. His eyes entranced her as they turned from hazy glass to tumultuous lust.

~~ 

Until the last 6 months or so, they traded off who took and gave control. Recently, though, she struggled with feeling in control on the bridge. Crisis after crisis… she was stuck in a loop of reactivity and she hated it. Reactivity wouldn’t get them home. So, with Chakotay’s agreement, she had taken the reins for a little while in the bedroom. Their time together helped her find her footing again, to remember what it was like to be active instead of reactive. And the sex… it’s amazing what a good fuck can do for confidence and morale.

She never hesitated when she wanted something before, but tonight was different. Before, she had carefully laid plans, executed with precision. Tonight, she wasn’t working from a script or a playbook. She wasn’t wrapping herself in false bravado or falling back on established routines or enjoyments.

Tonight, she found her stride.

Tonight she took what she wanted, and what she wanted was _him._

~~

He’d been painfully hard since about 30 seconds after he walked into her quarters, when she informed him he’d be spending the rest of the night naked and then engaged the highest privacy lock they had. It required his authorization, and he barely squeaked it out through the sudden desert in his throat. The look she gave him as he stood there, unable to speak or move because of the sudden rush of blood from one head to the other, would have torn his clothes off if she was telekinetic.

That was at least 2 hours ago, but time had lost its linear meaning here. There was only him, her, and the sensations she poured over him like sanctified oil.

~~

Her lips replaced her fingers on his throat, following the line of vessels so close under his skin. His hands curled into fists in the Starfleet issued sheets, wanting to touch her but knowing he wouldn’t enjoy the repercussions if he did.

She looked up at him from where she had settled on his shoulder, just above his collarbone. The fire flashing in her eyes was a welcome sight after months of self-doubt.

He held her gaze as long as he could through polarized sensations—the pain of her teeth sinking deeper into his flesh, the pleasure of her hand on his cock, the love in her eyes, the coldness in her voice. His eyes closed as his hips twisted, trying to find purchase against her hand.

“Problem, pet?” she growled at him, her own moan escaping as his cock twitched and pulsed in her hand.

He could only shake his head; the vacuum outside their viewport sucked sounds into its abyss before they ever left his mouth.

Her hands moved to either side of his chest as she pushed herself up and into his line of sight, waiting for him to focus on her. “You can stop this at any point, pet. Remember your signal?” she waited for his mind to focus and formulate. He nodded, then reached to the headboard for the string attached to the bell. He didn’t pull it, but his eyes met hers with a questioning look. “Yes, pet, that’s right. Pull the string and we’ll stop. Good. Thank you.” His smile flooded light through her soul as she lowered her lips to his. His head and hips lifted simultaneously, trying to maximize their contact.

She pulled back, then settled herself against his hips. “Hands” she ordered, holding her own in front of her, palms facing up. The haze over his brain made him clumsy, but he eventually extracted his hands from the sheets and placed his palms against hers. His hands overflowed hers and his middle finger reflexively rubbed small circles against her wrist while he waited for whatever came next.

She just waited, his hard cock pressing between her cunt and his belly. His hands still against hers except the slow, unconscious movement of his fingers on her wrists. His eyes glassy and half-lidded with endorphins and arousal. Her marks—a mixture of pressure bruises, hickeys, and bite marks—decorated him from shoulder to thigh.

He was a beautiful man.

He waited with her.

For her.

Always.

She twisted her hands to intertwine their fingers, bringing his arms down beside his shoulders as she lowered herself flat against his chest. Her kiss this time was soft and gentle, feeding him tenderness and extracting whimpers from deep within his throat. She released one hand. “Help.” was the only word necessary for his hand to move down his body and adjust both their positions. Her body slid slowly against his as she sank deeper onto him, counterbalance provided by their still-joined hands as his free hand steadied her hips. She groaned; he growled.

After a few panting breaths, she opened her eyes and smiled at him as she gave him his favorite command. “Touch.”

His eyes lit up and the hand on her hip moved to support her as she pushed back towards her heels. Fingers danced across her breasts, teasing lightly. He tried to softly extricate his other hand, but she held it firm against her own. Her free hand pressed solidly against his heart as she shifted her weight onto her hands and started moving. His eyes rolled back and hips arched up as his wordless moan reverberated around the room.

She shifted again to even her weight against both hands, his strong forearm steady under her weight as they found a slow, agonizing rhythm. He grunted every time her hips pushed against him, whimpered when she twisted before rising again.

She loved to hear him. It drove her crazy, no matter who was in control.

Her movements became faster and she released his hand, which found its way to her other hip to help steady her movements. All her weight was now against his chest, against his heart. Painful, but appropriate in some ephemeral way.

A few more thrusts and she saw the wildness start in his eyes, the anxiety spike as he tried to keep it at bay. Her fingers found his throat, pressing steadily against its vessels again.

“Come, Chakotay.” He tried to shake his head, tell her he wanted to wait for her, but couldn’t without hurting himself against her hand. She grinned at him, slamming herself down once more as she tightened every muscle in her pelvis and ground against him.

He had no choice.

His hands dug into her hips as he found a fast, erratic beat below her, pounding in time with his heartbeat, brain exploding and floating behind his eyes as it searched for oxygen it didn’t think it had.

She released his throat. He heard his disembodied self as his orgasm ripped from him howls and moans he _feels_ but doesn’t feel.

He stopped moving so she started, grinding and moving slowly against him to provide the friction he needed but couldn’t deliver to ride out his orgasm.

She stilled above him as the aftershocks quiet, supporting her weight on her hands beside his face. Kisses flutter across his face, his forehead, his cheeks, his lips; soft nuzzles and murmured words of affection and love smooth the reintegration his body and brain. “You did so well, pet. Thank you for sharing yourself with me. I love you, Chakotay.”

His hands twitched against her, eventually settling on a comfortable, rhythmic rub of her thighs to ground himself further back into reality. When his hand finally found her cheek, she kissed it before meeting his heavy, happy gaze.

“You okay?” she murmured, resting the weight of her head into his hand. He smiled and nodded. She wiggled a little, eliciting a shared gasp as he finally slipped out of her, flaccid and covered with the warmth of their mixed juices.

She talked softly at him as she gathered two warm, wet washcloths from the bathroom, cleaning him before flopping onto her back. His hand plucked the washcloth from her before she had a chance to clean herself up.

Silently he made his way down her body, and they both groaned at the first gentle lap of his tongue against her.

 

The forgotten, once-warm washcloth was ice cold by the time she was clean.


End file.
